Love More Tangible
by Sparcck
Summary: Moviefic: Sometimes, the most needed touch isn't skin to skin.


Love More Tangible  
by [Sparcck][1]

  
Rating: PG-13  
Archive: Please! Just drop me a line and let me know where it's going.  
Genre: Angst/Romance  
Summary: A touch doesn't always have to be skin to skin; sometimes, it's better if it's not.  
Disclaimer: Do I own them? Of course not. Will you sue me? I hope not. All characters belong to Marvel and Fox, I'm not making any money off of them, and so on.

Note: Whose idea was this? Dr. Bambee, whose original post on WoverineandRogue went something like, "Flesh to claw contact. Whew!" That's what I said, too. Thanks so much for the idea :)

Thanks: To my beta readers Brandi and the heaven-sent Dice. I may not have finished this without you. (I need lots of support. Seriously. I can't possibly do this kind of stuff alone.)

Feedback: All comments, criticisms, flames, marriage proposals, and death threats should be sent lovingly to [sparcck@hotmail.com][1]. Much appreciated.

*these are thoughts*  
/this is italics/  
~this is telepathy~

* * *

  
_You come home. Darling, you come here.  
__Don't stay so far away from me.  
This weather has me wanting love more tangible.  
Something I can hold  
'Cause it's getting cold.  
_-Bright Eyes

"You know, I think she's a little taken with you." That was Jean. Rogue could hear the affection threading through her tone at the thought of Rogue's romantic designs on Logan. Her face burned at the thought of Logan knowing how she felt about him, but at the same time, she wanted to hear what he had to say. 

Rogue had taken to following Jean down to the MedLab every time she came to see if Logan had gotten better. She was only minutely surprised that the older woman had never caught her - but then she remembered that, at least for the time being, she was one of the best trackers around. Thanks to Logan. 

Logan, who had been asleep for two weeks. 

At least, that's what they had told her. He's asleep. But Rogue knew what it was, knew what had happened to Cody, knew that this was one rest he could have never woken up from. 

_God, why'd he have to hold on so long? _

She was pulled from her thoughts at Logan's low, almost growled response. "You can tell her my heart belongs to someone else." 

Rogue sucked in a sharp breath and she felt the room start to tilt gently to one side under her. A pain flashed through her midsection and her right forearm rippled slightly without her knowledge. The skin on the top of her hand began to itch. 

"You know, you and I-" Jean again. Always Jean: Jean in her head for the past weeks, Jean in her dreams, in _his_ dreams. The skin itched more and there was a steady tremor now in her right arm.

"How's the professor?" Logan cut her off. 

Softly now. "He's good." 

"Good."

There was a brief silence, but Rogue's hypersensitive ears picked up movement. She could smell something new coming from the room now, something like yearning; something she knew from Logan's memories was like lust. 

Only stronger. 

She could almost feel the back of Jean's hand against her own lips, knowing that was what he was doing, knowing that it was the most he would give himself. 

The young mutant violently pressed her left hand against her mouth, trying to scrub the feeling away. She would never truly feel someone's hand against her mouth, against any part of her. Logan would never be able to touch her like he touched Jean. He would never want to.

She let out a small sound that was a cross between a pained moan and an angry growl. He would never want her. 

Her right wrist snapped to the side and the itching was finally satisfied when three thick claw-like bones shot out between her knuckles, ripping the skin there as it ripped through her glove. This time, her cry was one of raw anger. The room spun wildly around her as she jumped to her feet. 

"Marie-" 

Logan knew she was there, could hear her through the metal door. Why did he even care? He was the kind of man who needed to touch: who needed to touch a woman, not a little girl. She lashed out with her new claws and gouged into the door, seeing both their faces in it, wanting to hurt them. 

"Stay down. You're not well." Rogue knew Jean placed a restraining hand on Logan's arm and her stomach turned as she thought about how much she wanted to feel his skin under hers. About how she never would. 

Logan grunted. "Jeannie, leggo."

~Rogue!~ 

That was Jean now, out loud and in her head; she had picked up on her emotions and was half trying to calm her down, half trying to warn her of Logan's approach. 

Rogue was so angry she wanted Logan to come through that door so she could take a swing at him, so she could hurt him as much as he was hurting her. 

_But he saved you_, a little voice whispered. 

"Ah don't care!" she shouted and the doors slid open to reveal a half-naked and thoroughly confused Logan. 

"Marie, darlin', what..." His gaze went to the bones protruding from her hand. "What the hell's goin' on?" He reached a hand out. 

She lashed out and caught the palm of his hand with the tip of one claw. Her eyes widened at the line of blood that appeared and she whispered, "Stay 'way from me," backing up slowly. 

He didn't even flinch, the wound starting to close almost immediately. Understanding dawned in his eyes as he thought about what those claws meant, about what his enhanced hearing had allowed her to hear behind the metal doors. "Jesus. Oh, darlin', I-" 

"Shut up! Ah don't wanna hear anything from you. Ah don't care what you got to say. Just. Leave. Me. Alone." The claws snapped back into her hand and she turned and ran as fast as she could, away from Logan and away from Jean, who had been standing quietly behind him the whole time, eyes cast downward. 

Once on the first floor of the school, Rogue didn't know what to do. She didn't want to go to her room; Kitty would probably be studying as she often did between her last class and dinner. Through a window, she could see Bobby, John, Sam, and Jubilee involved in a game of two on two, with a blasé-looking Monet sitting off to one side, reading. The sight of the five of them basking in the sunlight against their skin, Jubilee throwing herself against a shirtless Bobby in an attempt to block his shot, was too much. 

Rogue could feel the anger welling up in her again. She looked down at her right forearm, rippling again as the borrowed claws threatened to tear through her skin. 

She took the stairs two at a time up to the third floor, where she pried the hall window open and stepped onto the roof overlooking the forest off to the right of the mansion. She hoped no one would think to look here, at least for a few hours. 

_Maybe forever._

Tears threatened, and she squeezed her lids closed, promising herself she wouldn't cry over him. After all, it wasn't his fault he couldn't touch her, that he wanted to touch someone else. Jean was smart and beautiful. Rogue fingered the white stripe in her hair then wrapped it in her fist and yanked. The tears of pain that stung her eyes felt good, a relief. _Ah won't cry over him._ "Ah won't." 

"Won't what?" 

She opened her eyes slowly and spoke without facing him. "How did you find me up here?" 

She imagined him tapping his nose. "Ain't so hard. Yer very distinct." 

"'Nother question, then: _why_ did you find me?" 

"You don't play games, do you?" He was close now, very close. She could feel the heat he radiated against her back, could smell the sharp, cigar-tinged scent that was all Logan. 

"No." 

"Mind if I sit?" 

The skin was back to itching again, and she wanted to tell him to run, that she might hurt him, but differently than last time. That she might hurt him because she was angry. Instead she shrugged and said, "Free country." 

She shivered when he sat next to her, too close, but she couldn't tell him to move away, and she found she couldn't move, either. 

She shuddered at his next move. 

He lightly ran the tip on one finger across her knuckles, skimming over the rips in the cloth. "It itches, don't it?" 

She nodded, unable to speak, unable to pull away, her gaze stuck to the sight of his skin so close to her own that was peeking through the gloves. 

"Only thing that'll make it feel better is the claws. You wanna pop 'em?" 

This time she nodded without meaning to or knowing that's what she wanted. 

"Yer angry, ain'tcha?" 

Her voice was rough when she spoke. "Yeah. Ah am. Real angry." 

He sighed and shifted away from her. 

She thought she would break her promise and cry right there. 

"I'm sorry you heard what'cha did. I didn't mean to hurt you." 

"Why should you apologize?" she asked bitterly. "You wanna touch her. People _need_ t'touch. Ah'm mad 'cause... 'cause... " 

"You need t'touch, too." 

She nodded and bit her lip, the itch in her hand almost unbearable now. "Not just that. But also 'cause- 

He closed his hand around her wrist. "Just pop 'em. You'll feel better." 

"You don't want me t'say it." She yanked her hand away and on the back swing of her arm the claws popped out again. This time, she did break her promise. "You don't want me t'say it 'cause you don't love me back. Well Ah love you! Ah'm real sorry that Ah do, but Ah do!" She tried to wipe the tears away, embarrassed to be crying in front of him, but the claws got in her way, making the tears come faster.

He touched her hair and she couldn't pull away. "That's not why I didn't want'cha t'say it." 

"Then why?" She resisted the urge to lean into his hand in her hair. 

"B'cause I feel somethin' fer ya that's not right. I feel somethin' fer Jean that's not right, too, but it's different b'cause-" 

"'Cause you can touch her." 

"No. B'cause it's not as confusing."

She was silent and the claws slid back into her hand unnoticed. Now it was his turn to look away. 

"I want t'touch ya, darlin'. You don't even know how much." He looked uncomfortable, staring at his hands, tightly clenched in his lap. "But you've touched me without doin' it physic'ly." He turned his head towards her. "There are other ways... but that don't make it right."

_Other ways?_ She started when he nodded, not realizing she'd said it out loud. She looked down at his clenched hand and saw the faint tremor there. "Just pop 'em," she echoed him. 

He did, flinching almost imperceptibly when they came out. He moved his hand close to her face, and she didn't move, unafraid and needing to know what he would do. She closed her eyes. 

The touch that came was warmer than she expected and so feather soft she thought she'd imagined it. Her eyes flew open to find Logan's closed, his breath coming rapidly as he leaned towards her, his hand hovering centimeters from her face. 

The backs of his claws slid down her cheek to her lips, and her body shuddered involuntarily. This was _Logan_. Logan _touching_ her. His claws were more intimate than any hand could have been, warmer and more gentle than anything she had ever felt. These claws were a part of him and were now against her skin, unfettered by the usual layer of cloth that separated her from the world. 

Am Ah dreamin' this? Please let it be real.

One claw traced the outside of her lower lip and she thought her heart would explode from her chest. 

_Oh, God._

His hand was shaking as it went lower, tracing the vein in her throat down to the hollow, letting the warm metal rest there a second, press a little harder, felt the pulse of her blood along his arm. 

She wet her lips and leaned closer, wanting to feel more, but not knowing _what_ more. 

The hand went lower. It traced a line along the buttons of her shirt, down between her breasts. He hesitated for a second, and then continued, slipping between the pull created by the buttons to touch bare flesh. 

His scent swirled around her and the touch of metal against her skin raced through her body and pooled in her stomach. She could smell something else too, something that she had smelled through the door to the MedLab, the smell of want and lust. 

Only stronger. More than that... Oh, Logan...

Her head was swimming, the metal growing hotter from her flushed skin. His eyes opened and met hers, the fingers on his other hand twining through the ends of her hair. 

He must have felt her heart racing under his claws, because he slowly pulled the claw away from her stomach and trailed it down her arm. He turned his hand over, letting the sharp part touch her skin for one second as it slipped into the top of her glove. With a slight pull, the material gave, sliced open in one smooth motion, slowly, his steady gaze never leaving hers. 

The glove fell from her hand, and now the backs of his claws were against her again, sliding firmly down her forearm to her hand. The feeling of him right up against her skin, coupled with the cool evening air on skin that wasn't used to touch made her feel lightheaded. Her lips parted slightly as his claws paused at her knuckles, and his fingers in her hair twisted gently. 

"Logan?" Her voice was low and raspy, her throat dry. "Logan..." She was at a loss, had forgotten all words save one.

His breath hissed out as he ran the claw over the flesh between her knuckles, prodding at the freshly broken and healed skin. Then the claws continued, down and around the knee that her hand was resting on, up and over her thigh. 

"Logan," she said again, and this time, he growled in response, his hand flipping over to rest palm down, his eyes now following his own movements as his fingers replaced his claws on the inside of her thigh, sliding slowly up and up... 

Her breath caught and a low moan escaped her mouth, unintentionally. Her body strained up towards him and her hand sought his as he trailed closer to the ache that was building up right at her center. She let one ungloved finger touch a claw and run slowly over the length of it. It was the single most sensual thing she'd ever done in her life, and all she could think was, _More_. She fully grasped the claw and slid her palm over the sharp part, feeling it delicately slice a thin line across it, drawing blood. 

His hand stilled. He snapped his gaze up to meet hers and she saw her own wide-eyed look mirrored in his face. His fingers tightened reflexively on her thigh, and he whispered, "Marie." It was said reverently, wondrously. 

Rogue had never felt so loved in her life. Thought that maybe she had never even really _felt_ before this very moment. 

_Funny how life works._

She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his chest, her fingers curling into her palm where the cut had already healed. His hand remained on her thigh a second more before sliding away. 

"I gotta go," he rasped out. 

She nodded, afraid to speak, not even knowing what she would say. 

He rose and slipped back through the open window without looking at her. 

She bent and picked up the material of her glove, sliding it between her fingers before carefully folding it and tucking it into her pocket. She stepped through the window and back into the hallway on shaky legs, not even noticing the small, silly smile that spread across her lips. 

* * *

All original story elements and writing copyright 2000 [Jeanine Schaefer][1]. Please do not distribute this without my permission. If you want to archive it, just let me know. Any other comments or criticisms, same thing.

**101-ism:** [http://members.nerve.com/sparcck][2]

   [1]: mailto:sparcck@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://members.nerve.com/sparcck



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